


Marvels of the Twenty-First Century

by forthegreatergood



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 14:35:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1432066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forthegreatergood/pseuds/forthegreatergood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's got a better handle on modern technology than he lets on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marvels of the Twenty-First Century

**Author's Note:**

> All characters property of Marvel.
> 
> Not beta-read. Please post any noticed errors in the comments, and they'll get fixed.

Steve frowned irritably and poked the screen of his phone again. Five bars. Full charge. No new updates.

“Hey, Cap. What’re you up to?” Clint chirped, dropping into a crouch behind him. Steve started and almost dropped the phone.

“What the--?” he snapped. He relaxed after a second as he registered who it was. “Hey.” His brow furrowed. “Weren’t you supposed to be in Belarus by now?”

“Cancelled. Apparently the situation resolved itself, which is always nice.” Clint craned his neck, trying to get a look at what Steve was hiding. “Seriously, though. What’s up? You look like you just got busted watching porn.”

Steve blushed furiously. “I’m not! Jeez, Clint. What kind of sleaze would watch porn out here in the living room when we’ve all got our own pads just down the hall?”

“Where to start with that?” Clint laughed. “Uh, let’s see. Tony’s done it at least three times that I know of. Tasha’s done it. I think Bruce has done it, but I really didn’t want to rile him up, so I refrained from busting his chops about it and thus cannot conclusively say he did it. It’s been alleged but not proven that I’ve done it twice.”

“Seriously? You guys just…?” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your suites are _right there_.”

“Yeah, but this is a huge screen. H-U-G-E, huge. Who could resist?” Clint grinned at him, and Steve rolled his eyes. “Oh, and nobody’s called apartments ‘pads’ since the ‘60s. The only way that doesn’t sounded crazy dated is if you can sound like you’re saying it ironically, which, well. Captain America and irony don’t mix. Sorry.”

“I’m sorry my use of slang fails to meet with your approval,” Steve grunted.

“Wait, is that a smartphone?” Clint demanded. He angled around Steve, trying to get a good look at the phone in his hands.

“Personal space, Hawk. We’ve had this conversation,” Steve sighed, edging away.

“That is totally a smartphone!” Clint accused, his eyes going wide. “You can use a smartphone? Oh my god. You can use a smartphone.”

“Shh! Come on, Clint, keep it down,” he said quickly. He slipped the phone into his pants and tried to put some distance between them. 

“No way,” Clint shot back, deftly picking his pocket. “You can’t just use a smartphone in front of me and expect me to ignore it! Seriously, man, what happened? Did Tony finally sit you down and do a weekend seminar like he’s been threatening to?” He narrowed his eyes as he flipped through the phone’s specs. “Wait. This is jailbroken. Tony doesn’t jailbreak Stark-tech.”

“Could you please give that back? I’d really prefer you didn’t just go pawing through my stuff like--”

Clint dodged to the side and danced back out of reach. “Oh my god. You did this on your own, didn’t you? Does Tony know about this?”

“No, and I’d really prefer he didn’t find out,” Steve said. “Don’t make me come over there.”

“How’d you do this? Did Darcy help you with this? You know you shouldn’t let Foster’s flying monkeys near your stuff, right?”

“I did it myself. It’s not that hard,” Steve told him.

“You know you usually look like a stunned mullet when Tony tries to talk about technology, right?”

“Thanks, Clint.”

“Sorry, bro. You do.” Clint shrugged. “I could send you some pics if you think I’m lying.”

“Please don’t,” Steve groaned, putting his face in his hands. “There’s a reason I’m not giving out my number.”

“Spill it. What’d you do, take a class at the learning annex?”

“I wasn’t kidding when I said it wasn’t hard,” Steve said, exasperated. “Tony actually makes it seem harder and confusing than it is. He goes too fast, and he spends way too much time on the bells and whistles when those can be addressed later once the basics are down, and he gets impatient with questions he thinks he’s answered.”

“Well, yeah. It’s _Tony_ ,” Clint snorted. Steve huffed at him, and he chuckled and flopped down on the couch. “He’s going to have a stroke when he hears about this.”

“Probably, which is why I’d really, really, _strongly_ prefer he not hear about this.” Steve held out his hand. “My phone. Please.”

“Fine,” Clint sighed, handing it back. “Just stop with the puppy-dog eyes already. How long have you had this?”

“A couple of months.”

“A couple of…” Clint broke off, shaking his head. “Steve, I have personally watched you be painfully confused by the term ‘wifi’ several times in the last couple of _weeks_.”

“I may have been playing that up a little,” he admitted.

“To screw with Tony?”

Steve coughed and looked away. “Primarily because I don’t want Tony to start trying to educate me again.”

“And what, secondarily to screw with him?” Clint shot him a quick, mischievous smile. “I can’t tell you how awesome it is to learn this about you. That Captain America is capable of this level of chicanery and deception is--”

“It’s not chicanery! Stop making this out to be worse than it is,” Steve said. “Tony’s just not as great at teaching new skills as he thinks he is. I’m trying to spare us both the headache.”

“By playing dumb whenever tech comes up around him,” Clint pointed out. He sprawled out and shoved one of the throw-pillows behind his head.

“By playing a little dumb. And stop smiling like that. The tactical omission of information isn’t nearly as Machiavellian as you seem to think.”

“Steve, you referred to radio waves as ‘magic.’ Come on, you can tell me. We both know you only said that to make him make the face.”

“I don’t know which face you’re talking about. Tony’s always making faces,” Steve said, crossing his arms. “And even if I was just saying that to make him make the face, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re the biggest gossip on the team.”

Clint stuck his tongue out at him. “I think you mean I’m the best disseminator of unclassified social intel in the intrateam theater. Stick that in your omission-of-information pipe and tactically smoke it.”

“Fine. I only said it to make him make the face.” Steve sank into the armchair on the other side of the table. “I may have also asked what a coffeemaker was.”

“You didn’t,” Clint said, his eyes going wide. “That’s laying it on a little thick, isn’t it?”

“Apparently not. I get the impression Howard’s habit of always having the latest newfangled contraptions around the house might have warped his perspective on what everybody else was using.” Steve shrugged. “Not that coffeemakers back then were anything to write home about compared to what you’ve got today, but they sure beat boiling grounds in a pot. What’s so funny?”

“You honestly just said the phrase ‘newfangled contraptions.’ You know what we really need?” Clint asked. “To hell with the tech. Nat knows some guys who used to do cultural immersion for the KGB’s American assignments. I bet she could get one of them in here to bring your slang up to date.”

“I’m not taking lessons in how to be an American from Communist Russia’s secret police, Clint.” Steve rubbed his temples.

“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds terrible.”

“That’s because it _is_ terrible. Besides, you understood me, right? You didn’t have to think about it before you got what I meant?”

“No, I got it,” Clint muttered.

“Then communication accomplished,” Steve said. His phone buzzed, and he jumped. “What on earth?”

“If you set it on vibrate, that’s kind of what happens, Cap.”

“No, I mean--” It buzzed again, and he shook his head sharply. “I meant it when I said I don’t give this number out.” 

“What’s the point of having a phone if nobody can call you on it?” Clint asked.

“Everything else it can do,” Steve said. He pulled it out of his pocket. “Why do I have three texts from Natasha and two from Bruce?”

“Your number’s not classified,” Clint informed him brightly.

Steve gaped at him. “ _How_? You had my phone for all of thirty seconds.”

“You don’t get to be the best by resting on your laurels.” He buffed his nails on his shirt and looked smug.

The phone buzzed again, and Steve groaned. “And that’s two from Phil, one from Pepper, and a lolcat pic from Director Fury. Damn it, Clint.”

Clint snickered and dodged the cushion Steve threw at him. “Relax. You had to join the rest of us in this century sometime, and getting a constant stream of interruptions and demands for attention from your nearest and dearest is part of that. Besides, imagine the look Tony’s going to have on his face when he figures out you were putting him on with the radio and the coffee.”

“I don’t need to imagine the look. I’ve been on the receiving end of a repulsor blast,” Steve grumbled.

“Okay, then imagine the look on his face in the picture I’ll forward you immediately after you recover from being blasted through a couple of walls.”

“You’re the worst.”


End file.
